Distractions
by Kuri333
Summary: He is never easily distracted. Only, lately, somebody seems to be challenging that, once and again.
1. Chapter 1

**Whatever you recognise is not mine, but belongs to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made, unless fun is a profit.**

* * *

He is distracted. And it's so strange an occurrence, that he gets momentarily distracted by his own distraction.

Important as he knows this meeting is, tense as he is at the imminence of the upcoming war, urgent as Mad-Eye Moody's words are, the meaning of it is, inexplicably and suddenly, lost on him.

All because of that hand, slowly twirling a wand between its fingers. Until it falls on the table with a soft clatter that nonetheless sounds hard on the almost silent meeting, and manages to gain a brief glare from Moody. The owner of the hand and wand just blinks at him and now, instead of twirling the wand, she is lightly tapping the tips of her fingers on the table.

And Remus is distracted. The only one in a large table full of members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Small hands, callous, with a couple of scars here and there. And then, the tapping stops and he looks ups at the face, instinctively. From across the table, she looks sheepish, and mouths silently. "Does it bother you?"

Remus shakes his head and smiles at her grin. And with an almighty effort returns his attention to Moody.

ooo

Next time he is distracted by her it's hardly his fault. He registers automatically the tell-tale sound of the umbrella stand falling on the carpet; lately she has learned the task of entering without waking up that wretched portrait and everybody is glad.

Then, the steps on the stairs, and finally she enters, and he almost gasps, but manages to just raise his eyebrows at her. The people around the table keep on looking at the blueprints spread in front of them and fail to see the swollen lip and the nasty cut next to her right eye. Her eyes meet his and she grimaces in a would-be dismissive gesture.

She takes a sit right next to him for the first time ever and he is glad of the opportunity to ask her what happened. She interrupts him, mid-question, and whispers "later".

This time he utterly fails to focus again.

When the meeting is finally over, the wounds are gone, but he's not fooled. He's learned Tonks is proud, in her own way. So he lingers, and finally, after announcing he's going to feed Buckbeack, Sirius leaves him alone with her.

"What happened?" He faces her.

With a grimace and an "ouch", she morphs the wounds back. They seemed to be bigger than before.

"Tosser lost his wand and instead of running away or surrender like a nice lad, he decided to punch me. And stupid as I am, I didn't see it coming. Then, he tried it again, but he'll regret that second one."

Remus is already conjuring a clean towel and putting it under water running from the tap.

"Here."

"Ouch!" she repeats the moment the cloth touches her skin.

"Come on, it's not that bad," he mutters, carefully tracing the contour of her mouth.

"Really? Try keeping wounds morphed and see how you like it."

"Steady now," he says, and for good measure, he holds her chin in one hand while cleaning with the other.

And suddenly he's distracted again by those warm brown eyes, looking straight into his, making him feel some deep emotion he can't really describe.

"Why did you morphed them, then?" he asks, to fill the strange silence, and he's surprised his voice comes out hoarser than usual.

"I just wanted to avoid the fuss."

"Am I fussing?"

"You're all right," she smiles.

He's done cleaning, for how long, he can't tell. So, he takes the towel back to the sink, and he imagines that the tips of his fingers are warm where they touched Tonks' skin.

"And," she adds at his back, "you saw me before I remembered to morph them away."

ooo

Dueling her is very distracting. More than once or twice he manages to block her spells just in time, momentarily lost in the way she holds her wand – loosely and yet with a very precise aim – or how her body seems to dance in one long fluid motion, all traces of clumsiness gone.

This might be practice, and Moody is indeed circling around the room, paying closer attention to the less experienced members of the Order, but for Remus this is turning out to be also an enjoyable experience. Part challenge, part something else.

And that's when his wand jumps out of his grip and flies in a long arch right into Tonks' open palm.

"Come on, you're not even trying!" she says, throwing the wand back at him.

He catches it and smiles at the challenge. Of course he wants to win, but he also wants to keep her moving, so this time he does try not just to defend himself, and it is a mix of frustration and elation to see her duck, and block, and shoot back. The rest of the world is gone, but for the two of them in this intense, magnificent dance.

Finally his jelly-leg course is faster than her shield and she falls on the dusty carpet. He comes nearer and is less than one foot away when a full body-bind hits him and he collapses. His eyes, the only part of his body he can move, search for her. She is laughing so hard she barely manages to mutter _Finite_ , her wand pointing at her own weak legs to stop Remus' course.

Eyes bright, she crouches next to him with a cocky smile.

"Are you all right?"

He can't answer, of course, and all right might be an overstatement, but he's not bad either.


	2. Chapter 2

It is a very distracting transformation, that part of his human brain preserved by Wolfsbane thinks, but is the senses of the wolf that tell him why.

That smell, vaguely familiar, so enjoyable.

The werewolf walks around the empty cellar. It doesn't come from the bare stone walls or the floor. Nor from the old rug Sirius has insisted to put there, for him to use whenever he gets sleepy. He approaches the door. There. Right outside.

It's a scent so intense, and rich, and… the wolf and the human fail to point out precisely what is it that makes it so appealing.

"You're not planning on sitting here all night, are you?" The voice comes from right outside the door, and the wolf knows that's not the source of the scent.

"What if I am?" She snaps. _She_.

"It's going to be the longest night of your life."

"It's going to be so, regardless."

"He won't appreciate it."

She groans.

"Come on," the deeper voice insists. "Let's wait in the kitchen and I promise to come back and check on him later, all right?"

His ears hear shuffling, and grunting. No. He doesn't want that scent to leave. Instinctively, the werewolf crouches next to the door, his nose touching the small gap and his nails scratching the wood. He whimpers, but the door has been unperturbed, by his human self, several hours ago. She won't hear it from the outside.

He, on the other hand, can hear the steps as they leave the stone corridor in direction to the kitchen. Taking that scent away from him.

Tired from the transformation, the werewolf finally curls and sleeps. And even in his dreams he is distracted by images he can't really define, but whenever he wakes up, a longing that has nothing to do with the feral hunger he's felt when transforming without Wolfsbane, fills his chest. He runs back to the door, once and again, to try to get closer to the feeling. To no avail.

The visits of the black dog make things both better and worse. He is company, of course, but the werewolf can smell that scent on the dog's fur, and he fills with rage at that. Can wolves feel jealousy, that small part of the brain that is still human manages to wonder.

When the pain of his bones going back to their original size wakes him up, he feels eager. Impatient.

He won't wait for Sirius to check on him and patch him up. Reaching to retrieve his wand from the ledge where he'd place it before his transformation, is a painful task, but he has other things in mind. His own spellwork manages to rend him decent and even alleviate the pain a little. For the time being, is good enough.

Remus should lay down and rest, he knows only too well he'll regret it later if he doesn't, but he has a new urge. He has to be sure. He needs to feel it again, with his human mind this time.

The kitchen is empty. There are some ambers on the fireplace and two glasses on the table. Jealousy comes over him again, and this time he recognises it for what it is, but he manages to control it.

Maybe she is still at headquarters, sleeping in the guest room she is been using lately.

Would he dare to go upstairs and check?

Distracting images fill his mind as he brews some tea. Imprecise. Instinctual. Are they completely his, Remus', or is the wolf still around?

The door opens at his back and he spins around.

She looks dishevelled, blue hair tousled in every direction, eyes full of sleep, but she grins at him.

"Wotcher."

"Hello, Tonks." He doesn't know what to say, or even if he should say something about his knowing she was there last night.

"Could I have a cuppa, too?" She points at the kettle he's stupidly levitating mid-air, and her voice sounds casual. Maybe too casual.

"Sure."

He pours her a cup and places it on the table. She is tugging at her sleeves, and Remus wishes he knew if that's just nerves or plain fear.

"So how…?" she starts, and he manages to see her blush before she morphs it away. "Are you all right? I mean… last night…" She trails off and he finds it all so very endearing.

"The transformation," he forces the word into the conversation.

"Well… yeah," she nods, and those warm brown eyes seem to look right inside him.

"I'm fine. A little sore," which is more than an understatement. "I might need to lay down shortly."

"Oh, of course. Don't let me keep you up."

"I'm good. No need to hurry."

She smiles, and they drink their tea, sitting across from each other, but no other word is said. He wants to look at her, but he doesn't dare, and he settles in getting distracted by the small sounds she makes. He wishes to break the silence, just to hear her voice, but, on the other hand, there is also something deeply comforting in just being there.

"Well," she finally sighs. "I better be off if I want to get some fresh clothes before going to work."

She takes her cup to the sink and, as she walks past him, he gets a whiff of that scent. On an impulse, he grabs her wrist.

"Tonks."

"Yeah?"

The white skin is soft under his fingertips and it takes him all his willpower not to give in and caress it.

"Thanks for staying tonight."

From her standing position, she has to look down at him. With a little hesitation, she raises her free hand and lightly touches the hair on his temple.

"I'm glad you're all right."

And then she's gone.

Sirius finds Remus a while later, in the exact same position, looking at the void in front of the fireplace.


	3. Chapter 3

She laughs at something George said, rocking back at forth on her chair, and then retorts and the twins are laughing as well.

He, Remus, can't help but stare. Their eyes meet and, with a cheeky smile, she winks at him. He smiles at her, only he's a second too late, and she's back inside the twins joke. He is suddenly very aware that he must look strange, staring at her like that.

She snorts, the twins keep on whatever the story is and he forces himself to talk to Sirius, instead of looking at her again. He loves her laughter.

And that sudden thought distracts him for very different reasons.

"I wonder when you're going to admit it," Sirius says, with a grin that is so full of mischief, much like the one he displayed before all hell broke loose during the first war, he can't come up with a suitable retort.

To win a little time, he takes an extra helping of roasted chicken, which happens to be right in front of Tonks, and he swears it doesn't look strange at all if he looks at her again. Only, she might be looking at him, too, and when their eyes meet, he almost forgets all about the chicken.

Fred saves the entire thing, unknowingly, with a new witty remark. Tonks is laughing again and he wishes he were in the joke, too.

"So?"

He almost forgot Sirius was there.

"So, what?"

"So are you going to admit it?"

Remus sighs, feigning a contempt he is far from feeling. "Whenever you decide to make complete sentences, and to give them some sense for good measure, let me know."

At this, Sirius laughs, and it's a bark-like sound, completely unlike his cousin's.

"All right, you can pretend you don't know what this is about. And I can pretend I don't know either."

Remus knows. And Sirius, knows, of course he does. He has a lot of free time, and, as most of his and Tonks interactions happen inside headquarters, he has had a privileged position looking at it all.

At what, exactly? A nasty voice inside Remus' head asks.

Nothing. Nothing to look at, whatsoever.

"You should ask her out."

"Who," Remus asks, mechanically.

"My mother."

At this Remus finally chuckles and, without knowing how, he looks back up. Tonks is looking at him, again, grinning. "You'll have to ask Remus about that," she says, and George looks at him, too.

"Pardon me?" Remus asks, happy to be invited at whatever that is.

"What's the spell behind the Marauder's Map?" Fred asks.

"What makes you think I'm the one behind it?" he asks both twins and Tonks.

"I very much doubt it was Sirius," she prompts.

"What? You offend me!"

"Were you?"

"No, but still…"

And Remus explains, and even though he's talking to Fred and George, and pointedly ignoring Molly's glares of disapproval, he's actually talking to _her_. Looking at Tonks, who's looking back, with bright eyes and an impish smile.

He has to make a different effort, now, not to lose the trail of what he's talking about, in those big warm eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

"Remus"

"Huh?" Her eyes look into his, but he doesn't look back this time. He can't.

"What is it?"

"Huh?" He repeats, in a lame effort to gain some time.

"You seem… distracted."

And, of course, she is right. Only, this time he's not distracted by her, exactly. But his mind isn't on the mission either.

 _Say something. Keep quiet. Say something. You'll ruin it. Do something, then. You can't._

 _Why?_ That treacherous, weak part of his brain insists on asking, once and again.

 _You're not good enough for her!_ That other part of his brain, the reasonable one, has a point.

"I'm… not. Just tired, I suppose," he manages and he knows it's lame.

Does she see through the lie? She glances up at the night sky; he knows she's confirming that the full moon is still weeks away.

Nobody speaks for a while, and he's sorry he might have sounded snappish.

"Do you think he'll show up?" she finally asks.

He looks at the empty warehouse. From the hill where they are sitting next to each other under Moody's invisibility cloak, the whole area looks deserted.

"I don't know. It might be a false lead."

"As they usually are," she sighs.

 _Tell her. Don't. Say something. Don't you dare. Anything. No._

The proximity doesn't help. Moody's cloak forces them to be very close, shoulders almost touching, and his own thoughts are driven away now and then.

Her body is warm. She's wearing a sweater, but he can imagine the soft skin underneath it. How many nights has he laid awake, imagining that skin despite the internal yells of his own common sense. His fingers would dare to touch, with just the tip at first, and then with increasing boldness he would feel that softness against his own rough hands.

She sighs, and he looks at her just in time to see her chest move.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says, and their eyes finally meet. He raises an eyebrow at her. "All right," she admits reluctantly. "Maybe a little tired."

"How many double shifts have you been taking lately?"

She chuckles humourlessly. "I thinks it's easier if you don't count them."

"That many?"

She chuckles again.

"We might be here for a while, why don't you rest for a bit?" The image of her head resting on his shoulder is enticing.

"You mean sleep? On the job?" She sounds partly scandalised and partly amused.

"I'll wake you up if something happens," he promises.

"You just said you're tired."

He chuckles. Of course he did. Only, it was a lie. Too late to backtrack now, though.

"Oh well, you leave me no choice," he says, in a tired voice.

She just looks at him, curiously, as he rummages in his pocket. It's been enlarged earlier, precisely for this.

Finally, his fingers find it and he produces a bar of chocolate.

"Remus Lupin, you're a lifesaver."

"Yeah, I might have been called than on occasion," he says, and offers her a piece. The tip of their fingers touch, for just a second, and he thinks he should do this more often. And then, how pathetic he is of relishing at just the touch of fingertips.

"Thanks," she says, and the chocolate disappears. "Forgot to have diner."

"How? There's an entire Weasley casserole at headquarters."

"I thought as much, but I made it barely on time, remember?"

"I should've packed you some."

"Don't worry about it. Can I have some more chocolate?"

This time he places the small square in his open palm. If she thinks it's weird, she doesn't say it. The louch lasts a little bit longer. Her fingers feel much more intense on his hand. And he is so distracted by the shiver that runs down his spine, that for a second he completely forgets why are they there.

 _I have to say something_. There is that thought again. Yes. It seems to be the only thought that makes sense, when he looks at her smile of gratitude and at how her eyes spark, even at the dim light.

Only, he knows deep down, he shouldn't.

"Remus?" she asks after a moment of silence.

"Tonks?"

"Nevermind."

"What?"

"I was just going to make a stupid question," she shrugs.

"Then make it."

"Rather not."

"In exchange for another piece of chocolate?" he shows what's left of the bar, just outside her hand's reach.

"You would've given it to me anyway."

"How do you know?"

"You wouldn't want to make the rest of the watch knowing that it's because of you I collapsed," she says, laughter vibrating in her words.

"Really?"

"And… you're a gentleman."

"Not sure about that." Gentlemen are not supposed to be cowards. Nor are they supposed to pine over a beautiful woman so many years younger and in so many ways better than them.

"I am, though. So, you giving me more chocolate?"

"You telling me your stupid question?" He arches an eyebrow and she laughs.

"Oh, all right, but don't take it the wrong way."

"I won't," he places the square of chocolate on his palm agan, and this time, quite deliberately, she lingers, and he shivers at his touch.

"You ticklish?" she asks, without taking the chocolate, but tracing a circle around it with her fingers instead.

"No," he says, and his voice sounds weak. All of him feels terribly weak, and it's just terribly fortunate that there are no Death Eaters around, or he would've been a goner.

"Doesn't seem so," she says, finally taking the chocolate.

He chuckles. "That was the question?"

"Oh yeah," she replies, a tad too quickly.

"Wasn't."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Oh, all right then," she huffs in mock exasperation. "I just wanted to ask you how come you're not dating anybody."

Now the blood in his veins has frozen, he's sure of that. Maybe she is a Legilimens and has kept it hidden all this time.

"It's a stupid question, Tonks," he manages, and his voice sounds weak. "Who would've want to date an unemployed werewolf?"

"Oh, come on! Now you're being stupid. What does that has to do with anything?"

"Really? Are you really asking that?"

"Now I am," she says, her eyes fixed on his and, again, he almost loses his train of thought because it's really too easy to forget about the entire world when those beautiful brown eyes are fixed on his.

"Well, if you want me to spell it out for you, most people wouldn't even consider sitting as close to me as you are now. Just because me being a werewolf. And then, how many women do you know that would like to date someone with zero job prospects-"

"For the time being."

He ignores her "... and no career whatsoever, not to mention, usually despised by society at large."

"That's just self-pity."

"It's not. And anyway, you said the question was stupid yourself. You must have thought about all of this before."

She sighs. "I did not, as a matter of fact."

 _Really?_ He thinks, and maybe he can believe her. "What did you think then?"

"Crazy schedules. Double life as secret agent and spy. Order duties. That sort of thing."

"Is that why you're not dating anyone?"

"Hm." She seems to be choosing her words carefully. "Not really. I mean, I know it would be next to impossible to date someone with all those extra shifts and life in general. But… oh well. I just… I think it'll be hard to find someone…"

"How so?" he asks with genuine interest.

"High expectations."

"How high?"

"Very high. Impossible really." She sighs, and stoops a little, looking at her own empty hands. He thinks it sounds as if she's defeated. This is the first time he has seen her like this, so unlike her optimistic everyday demeanour.

He takes another square of chocolate and places it right under her line of vision.

"Ugh." She says, and he's puzzled, because she takes the chocolate anyway, without lingering this time. And then she eats it.

"Ugh?"

She sighs. "High expectations, Remus."

"Now you've really lost me."

"Nevermind."

He sighs. "All right."

And then it strikes him. Could it be that she's talking about him? No, of course not. How could it be? And then, who…?

There could be a million explanations. Somebody from her past. Somebody from work. Someone she read about. Someone whole. Young. With a future.

 _Not me, surely._

 _Surely?_

"Tonks?" He didn't realised he spoke, and now he's scared, really scared, but he has to go for it. Now.

"Remus?"

"Nothing… I… I guess…" He sighs. "I wish I wasn't feeling so worthless."

She looks at him again. "Yeah, I wish that, too. Because you're not. Far from it."

"Well, you see…" he swallows, hard. There is a knot in his throat that is making it all ten times more difficult. "It's easy to feel good when I'm around you. Or in Order meetings. But outside, for the rest of the world-"

"Do I seem like somebody who gives a rat's ass about what the rest of the world thinks?"

He chuckles. "Not really."

"There you go."

"Yeah… maybe that's why I feel good around you."

"Just… good?"

His brain seems to stop then. She's still looking at him, and he can't look away for the life of him. Suddenly it feels very hot under the invisibility cloak and he feels he needs to take it off and breath the cool air of the night.

"Not just good, no." And this new idea distracts him again, for a second. She's that cool air he's so desperately needing right now. He has to take the risk, or he'll suffocate soon enough.

Feeling scared and hearing the beating of his own heart, he reaches his hand and takes one of hers. Her small fingers close around his and it feels so very warm and right.

"Not just good," he repeats. "Perfect. With you I feel I can do anything. I feel as if I have a place in the world, and it's a world worth living in."

He waits for the longest second until a small smile starts on the side of her lips. "Really?" her voice is barely audible.

"Really. And I know it's just wishful thinking of my part but I-"

" _You_ make my world perfect, Remus," she interrupts. "In case you were wondering."

He's not thinking anymore. Is just instinct, pure and confident, what makes him cup her cheek gently, slowly, and then there is nothing in the entire world but her soft warm lips on his.

And it's very fortunate the mission was in fact a false lead because both of them are so very distracted.


End file.
